Elliott evaded this topic while his eyes cast over me, frankly admiring. I’m sure Irene was delighted to note that the conversation meandered pleasantly down flirtatious paths. Across the room I saw Leon and waved. A momentary look of pain crossed Leon’s face, which I have to assume was occasioned by the red dress, but he moved through the throng to join us. He kissed my cheek, and Irene’s.

“You girls look like fire and ice,” he said, beaming.

Elliott respectfully excused himself. Gordon beckoned to Irene, and she left us.

Leon and I moved out of the main currents to a place near the French doors, and never mind the red dress, his voice filled with its old warmth. I told him how much it meant to me to have a real office.

“Yes.” He smiled. “I thought that house might suit you, though you know it’s not zoned for business. It’s a residential block, so you have to be discreet.”

“The Granville Agency doesn’t exactly have limos full of movie stars pulling up in front of the house, so I think we’re safe.”

His eyes lit with tender affection. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you, Roxanne.”

“I’ve missed you, Leon.” I hugged him, and I knew Irene was right: I didn’t want to lose Leon. Of course I could accept Denise. I didn’t have to like her or respect her, just accept her.

My resolve was immediately tested when Denise joined us, taking Leon’s arm possessively, dwarfed by his height and intellect. Enormous blue eyes set in her perfectly oval face; fresh, full ruby lips; blonde hair waved up high; spit curls the size of quarters stuck to the sides of her face. By any standard, Denise was a ravishing beauty, broad shouldered, with enormous breasts. I liked to think in ten years, say, around 1965, she’ll look like Ma Kettle, but in the meantime she radiated fleshy vitality in a Technicolor-yellow gown set off by a necklace of yellow diamonds and a yellow diamond bracelet gleaming on one of her long white gloves. She gazed up adoringly at Leon, and he beamed at her like Joseph Cotton seeing Dolores Costello again in The Magnificent Ambersons. “My beautiful wife.” Leon savored that last word as if it were a piece of toffee.

As the daughter of Sir Rowland Granville, I said, “Congratulations on Banner Headline. It’s a great picture.”

“You’ve seen it, then?” asked Leon, clearly pleased.

“Yes, Jonathan and I went together. We both loved it.”

“I’ve heard so much about you and Jonathan,” Denise said in her low, trilling voice, “running wild all over the studio when you were kids.”

“It was our playground.”

“They were sweet kids,” said Leon.